Friday, July 18, 2014

Andrew McMahon at the Castle Theatre, 7.17.14

1. Opened with "I Woke Up in a Car." First song of Andrew's I loved. Driving in high school fall. Windows rolled, owning the world. The first notes plunked. I was there.
2. He always plays with his feet. He always jumps off the piano. Scottsdale to Bloomington, I applaud his earnestness to be his brand.
3. He doesn't body surf anymore. Now he just stands in the crowd. And that is somehow more electric.
4. This time, I decided to be in the waiting line. My fanship has changed significantly in the years I have adored this music. I recognize bits of it in other fans. I troll the Instagram posts with his hashtags and see our happy faces among the desperate souls who cried, who had to tell an important story, who couldn't speak. These things are okay, but I did not want them to be me, and now they aren't. So now I am ready to happily shake hands and say thanks and go on into the night and not think about it think about it think about it.

5. There are songs I can barely hear. This is the 8th time I've seen him. 8th time I've heard "Dark Blue" live. Billionth time not live. It has been stretched like taffy. But this time was pretty exciting because this crowd was insane. I could barely hear a word of the song from the speakers. The screaming, the screaming.

6. His new single about his daughter is fantastic. This could be the year this name means something to the universe. Fitting as he's the satellite.
7. His music is still my favorite. That doesn't change. It is not him, though. He is the pane through which I have lived. Yes, SoCo is nostalgic. Yes, I heard the new Jack's in Japan, then my first year of grad school on a walk to the lake. This EP in a cabin in Maine. That single in my St. Louis bedroom. I know exactly where I was. Like these songs are a natural disaster (come on, sweet catastrophe). So, yeah, my arms fly up during "Resolution." I jump at the sight of the telltale harmonica. We all know what that means.
8. The song for a long goodbye sends us away, off, into the night.